


Funny Looking Sort of Library

by omphale23



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Crack, Gen, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, mostly harmless. Look snappy, no way to tell how long we'll be here." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funny Looking Sort of Library

"Doctor, where are we?" Rose looked around anxiously. "Doctor?"

Suddenly his face popped back into view. "Oh, there you are! I was beginning to wonder when you'd join me. C'mon, you'll want to meet the neighbors."

"Neighbors? They aren't…" Rose looked, if it was possible, even more worried.

"Oh, no. Not those kind of neighbors. These are harmless." The Doctor got one of those grins, the one that made her breath catch, and bounded out the door.

Rose stood for a moment, wondering why something felt off. He reappeared.

"Well, mostly harmless. Look snappy, no way to tell how long we'll be here." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

That was better.

They ended up in a corridor. Well, it looked like a corridor. Sort of. Lots of mysterious doors, and pictures on the wall, and the inevitable blind corner. Why was there always a corner?

Funny, she didn't usually go in for pondering. At least, not this early in the morning. "You never answered my question. Where are we?"

"Inside the author's head. Isn't it fantastic?"

That wasn't the adjective she would have used. But when in Rome, well, everything was fantastic. "What author? You mean, like God?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. Not even someone as exciting as Russell T. Davies, I'm afraid. Just some random fanfic author."

"Fanfic? We're in fanfic?"

"Looks that way. Probably something from that television show. Twentieth, twenty-first century, something like that. After the internet, but before it was censored to keep out all the useless crap."

"You know, I never watched that show." Rose was a bit annoyed that he even knew about it.

"Really? Well, wonders never cease."

Rose wasn't sure if she should be flattered, or insulted. Probably both. "What are we looking for?"

"Details. Other people. Does it matter?"

The Doctor pulled Rose away from a photo of a woman dressed in black and an old man with a bandana. She looked starstruck. So the author was a she. No surprise there.

Rose gave up on getting a good look at the photos. "I suppose not. How about this one?"

"The Room of Lost Plots? Somebody's been reading too much Jasper Fforde." What was that supposed to mean? Rose stuck out her chin. He'd better not make a crack about her literary ignorance. It wasn't like she couldn't read, just because she didn't read Kant.

The Doctor looked like he was about to say something funny, but thought better of it. After a long moment, he started again. "This is more likely something to do with plot holes. You know, problems with events, or characterization. Sometimes it has to do with dialogue, though."

"Dialogue? You mean what they say?" Rose wasn't sure she liked the idea of being condemned for her inability to complete a sentence.

"In our case, it's more how we say it. Haven't you noticed?"

"Noticed what?" It was hard sometimes, being the ignorant one. It really was. But Rose tried to look interested.

"You sound like an American. Not exactly true to life, is it?"

"Oh. Guess not. So she's leaving us here until we sound like, well, us?"

"Looks like it."

"I hope she's a quick study." Strange. She felt weird, like all the sarcastic remarks she had ever thought of were suddenly on the tip of her tongue. It was better than asking leading questions, at least.

"What? You're objecting to wandering around with me, looking for a world to save?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it doesn't sound as good."

"So we're an unfinished plot. But we weren't in the main room, so we haven't been here long. And she must have finished something with us in it. After all, we're here. We're even talking, so I bet it was submitted to an archive."

More exposition. Rose hoped the door didn't disappear while they were standing in the hall talking about it. "Any idea what it could be?"

"Maybe. I'd need to narrow it down. Tell me what I look like."

"What you look like? You look like you. The Doctor." Daft as a brush. Whatever that meant.

The Doctor was insistent. "You're going to have to be more specific than that. What am I wearing? How tall am I? How did we meet?"

"Huh?" This was getting scary. Scarier.

"Oh, for once, would you just humor me? What do I look like?"

Well, he did ask for it. "Big goofy ears, funny nose, scruffy jacket…"

"Oi, less of the editorial comments, more of the specifics, if you please."

Oi. That definitely wasn't American. Was that a good sign? "Sorry. Um, brown hair, fortyish?"

"What color are my eyes?" Rose realized that this was important to him.

"Blue." Rose fell silent for a moment, trying to find the right words. "You look determined, but heartbroken. Like somebody's dying, but you're doing something about it. Does that make sense?"

"Absolutely. And judging by the light in your eyes, I'd say that narrows it down to about five minutes, at the end of Parting of the Ways."

Rose was confused. Correction, she should have been confused. But for some strange reason, she knew what he was talking about. Odd, that. "I thought she was American? How's she know about it?"

"Best not to think too hard about the how, in this case. She's obviously picked up some episodes somewhere. We're a bit too defined for her to be working off fanfic."

"That makes absolutely no sense to me." The confusion was back. Rose wondered if everyone found being totally bewildered as comforting as she did.

"Eh. Not important. Let's see who else is here."

Finally they opened the door, and were confronted by a group of people who totally ignored them.

The Doctor looked disappointed, but he soldiered on. "Right, you'll have to fill me in on some of these. Never was much for earth television. I know those two, though. That's got to be Mr. Darcy, even if he looks like that film actor. Colin something-or-other."

"Firth. That makes sense. He's got a great…um…face. Makes for fabulous PWP."

"PWP?"

Rose wasn't sure she was ready for that particular conversation. "You don't want to know."

The Doctor grinned at her. It was the one that made her blush. "I don't? Are you sure?"

She changed the subject. "Let's see, I don't know all of them, but I can make a guess. Those two in the corner are Josh and Donna. American drama, something about the White House? It was cancelled in 2006, I think. Jack saw a rerun somewhere; all I can remember about it is that he used to walk like something was chasing him." Rose wished she could talk to Donna for a moment. They could commiserate about life as Exposition Girl.

"And that's the crew from Moya." Rose hesitated. There was something about all of them. She couldn't quite…"Over there, that's Brandon Lee. But he's wearing something…oh, that's right. It must be a scene from the book." There was that funny feeling again. Rose didn't remember being so interested in American pop culture. And the thought was back. If she could just finish that thought.

"And those two?" The Doctor barreled right over the thought. Goodbye, thought.

"That's Nikita. She's another one from America. Well, Canada, really, but that's all a bit complicated. Bit before my time, but she's a hard character to forget. If she's here, then Michael's around somewhere. I'd put money on it. That woman with her is some other character, from the same show. I don't know about the guy in the chain mail."

"That's Gawain. One of King Arthur's knights. Nice guy, but a bit of a hothead. Rescue fair maiden, then kill her in a murderous rage, things like that. Better than that whiny Lancelot, at least. So they're all from closed universes. Makes sense. So are we."

Closed universe sounded awfully final. And now she saw what else they had in common.

Darcy, Josh Lyman, John Crichton, Eric, Gawain, and Michael. They were the link. Had to be. Sure, they all had good hair, and most of them carried some kind of weapons. But that wasn't it. Death on their heels, loss in their hearts. Saving the world, usually; carrying it around on their shoulders and throwing themselves in front of danger. Mind you, she wasn't sure about Gawain and Mr. Darcy. But she could make an educated guess, and she was willing to bet that they, too, had that haunted look in their eyes.

The one in the Doctor's eyes right now.

"Because you're going, too." Rose looked away for a moment. When she looked back, he was still staring at her. Defiance, anger, arrogance, and that awful, awful sorrow.

"Yeah, because I'm going. So within our storyline, there're lots of places to make things up, without the chance that we'll go back and change things later. She apparently doesn't want to make any decisions that will turn out to be non-canon."

"No sense of adventure." Rose was pleased. She had a sense of adventure. It was one of her best qualities. Today, she also had changeable moods. And a short attention span.

The Doctor carried on. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. More like she hates being wrong."

"Bet she likes you, then." More of that damn sarcasm. Well, it did come in handy.

The Doctor sputtered. "What? I'm wrong sometimes. I have no trouble admitting it. It just doesn't happen very often. What's so funny?"

They made their way across the room, careful not to walk into any of the other occupants. No one paid any attention. Still. His psychic paper must be burning a hole in his pocket by now.

"Well, she can't possibly leave us here forever." It wasn't often that he finished a sentence with a note of uncertainty. Rose didn't like the sound of it.

"Oh yeah? Then what are all these other people doing here?"

The Doctor looked at her a moment, and then got that maniacal grin. The spooky one, that didn't make her want to laugh at all. "Hadn't thought of that. You may have a point."

"Funny, it isn't giving me a feeling of smug superiority." Rose stopped in her tracks, staring across the room. "Michael. What's he doing?"

"Who?"

"Him. The one in the black leather pants and the t-shirt. The one with the green eyes and the great hair. Doesn't talk much, just gives meaningful stares. Kind of like you, without the sense of humor. Or the grins."

"There are four of him in here." The Doctor looked put out, as if the universe was a joke he didn't get. Rose knew the feeling.

"The one singing."

"Oh. Him. Well, my guess would be a songfic."

"A song-what?" She already knew the answer, but she could tell he was getting antsy. Probably dying to stop and explain something. It couldn't be good for his ego, being surrounded by fictional characters from her time period, ones that he didn't recognize but she did. Sure enough, he was getting ready to enlighten her.

"A songfic. We don't get many of them for some reason. Don't know why, some of them are quite fun. Lot's of angst and longing looks, usually. Sometimes a bit of revelatory musing."

"Right. So he's singing because she hasn't finished it yet, and when she does, he'll disappear."

"Got it in one." He looked a little depressed, but then his eyes lit up. "Except for the disappearing bit. He won't vanish, he'll just move to the library."

"There's a library here? Does it rain there?"

"Maybe. Want to find out?" There was that smile she liked. The good one, the one that reached his eyes.

Rose pushed away the thought that wanted to know why she was keeping track of his smiles. "Sure. Not like we've got anything better to do at the moment."

"Well, that's hardly my fault. Off we go." He stopped when they reached the corridor and looked at her. "Wait, did you say something about meaningful stares? What meaningful stares?"

"I'm young, I'm not stupid. I know a look when I see one. You aren't fooling anyone."

"Huh. Something to keep in mind, I guess."

This time Rose stopped. They didn't have a future, not really. But they were trying to avoid that subject. Not succeeding, but trying nonetheless. She decided to stick to the problems at hand. "We really could be here forever, you know. Stuck, halfway through a story."

The Doctor looked relieved. "And what brought this on?"

"Michael. He was singing My Heart Will Go On."

"Oh. Poor guy. Well, at least neither of us is singing."

"Yet."

"Oh. Right, well, no sense worrying about what's coming." The creepy grin was back.

Well, that was pretty clear. Topic off limits. Rose plastered an answering smile on her face and followed him out the door and into the unknown. As usual.

It took some time, and there was never a TARDIS around when you needed one. Rose was starting to hate all those damn corridors. Weren't there any elevators in this place? And why did he insist on pulling her along by the arm? Just as she was about to suggest that they try a new direction, they turned a corner to find themselves in a cozy room with two wooden doors.

The Doctor brightened. "This must be it."

Rose was unimpressed. "Doesn't look much like a library to me. Where are the books?"

"Oh, they're around somewhere. This is where the memories are stored. What's left after they're read, or in our case, written. Possibly both. Actually, I'd say probably. Not in the same place, though."

"So where would he be? They? The rest of the stories with Michael in them, I mean."

"You're not looking for another boyfriend are you? No more pretty boys."

"We've got Jack. You like him, and he's pretty enough."

"For the moment." The Doctor stared at her.

Rose was pretty sure he wished he hadn't said that. It was breaking the rule, the unspoken one. The one that was keeping her from crying. Why did he keep bringing it up? "True. He comes back, though."

Glum. That was the right word for him. "For you. Not for me."

"Oh. Forgot about that part."

He shook himself, and flashed her a pained smile. "Well, no time like the present. Pick a door, any door."

Rose stood and looked around her. "Let's save our own story for last. How about we start with the ones she's read?"

"Sounds good to me. After you."

They found themselves in another room, this one labeled with what looked to be the titles of the source materials. Rose began reading the doors. "Let's see. West Wing–bet that's all Josh and Donna–La Femme Nikita–that explains where the songfic came from. They're just loaded with songfic, because Michael never opens his damn mouth. Harry Potter, Farscape–John Crichton, now there's a guy who knows how to use alien tech–Bridget Jones–ugh, what was she thinking? Oh, right, Colin Firth."

"How about this?" The Doctor stood beside a door with a familiar blue box drawn on in.

"Ooh. Yeah, let's see what we get up to."

The Doctor opened the door, and then slammed it shut. "This might not be such a good idea."

"Why? What's in there?" Rose stepped through. "Ah. Well, I did say I knew all that had been. But we should probably stick to the present day, shouldn't we?"

"That would be best. Ninth Doctor it is." Neither of them looked at the door with the number ten on it. They opened the one next to it.

Rose broke the silence. "There certainly are a lot of doors around here. When do we get to the good bits?"

"Should be coming up. One more set, with the characters, and then the individual stories."

She walked over to one labeled Doctor and Mary Sue. "How about this one?"

"No! Not that one!" The Doctor grabbed her hand. "You remember what I told you about crossing my timeline? Well, that would be worse. Much, much worse. Probably."

"If you say so. Maybe something with us in it, then? We could get an idea of where she's headed with this."

"These are the stories she's read, remember?"

"Right, but she's bound to be influenced by some of them, isn't she? Come on, it'll be fun."

"If you insist."

They walked through the door marked Doctor, Rose, and/or Jack. Beyond it, there seemed to be an infinite number of choices.

"She can't possibly have read this many. When does she have time to sleep? Or work?"

The Doctor smiled. "Sleep is overrated. Come on, let's see what she's got. You take the ones on the left, I'll take the right."

They each began pushing on doors. Most were solidly closed, but the sonic screwdriver didn't seem to work on them. Rose was unfazed. "Guess we're stuck with the ones that are unlocked."

Luckily, a few doors swung open easily. The Doctor glanced into one on his side, then moved on to another almost immediately. A few times, he shook his head, muttering. He finally stopped, laughing. "Like I'd ever do that. Not with people around, anyway."

"What was that, Doctor?"

"Nothing. Find any interesting ones?"

"Oh, lots. But I seem to be in peril most of the time. Lots of you rescuing me from impending doom. Flirting with Jack. Me, not doom. Although there are some of them, too. You don't seem very interested in meaningful stares, at least."

"They must still be divided, then. You've got all the adventure, and I've got…"

"You've got what? The boring ones? The ones with no paragraphs? The ones in Spanish?" Rose crossed the corridor and opened a door. "What's the diff…Oh. Well, that's something I'd never considered."

"Really? Not even once? Guess I'd better brush up on my staring."

Rose smacked him on the arm. "Shut up, you. I'm trying to learn something here."

"She's…you're…"

"I did say I was a gymnast."

The Doctor's ears turned red, and he closed the door hastily. "I think that's quite enough of that. Moving right along."

"But it was just getting interesting."

"Shouldn't you go back to the adventure stories?"

"Oh, no, I think I'll stick with these. You should go see the third one on the left, though. There's a bird woman in it. Right up your alley. I think we jump out a window."

Rose opened another door. "Hey, what's Jack doing in this one? I thought these were…Oh. Oh, my. He's certainly flexible, too. And where was he keeping *that* at?"

The Doctor voice broke into her dazed appreciation. "You know, I could do this all day. We're all just standing in the rain in this one. That doesn't seem that exciting. Must be something about it, though."

"Why's that?"

"Haven't you noticed? These are all good stories. That's probably the difference between the rooms that open and the ones that don't." As always, he smirked in triumph.

Just once, Rose wished she could be the one to figure something out. Something that wasn't depressing, that is. "She doesn't want to think about the ones she didn't like, and so she locks them away?"

"Or doesn't remember them at all. Mental libraries are funny things."

"So what's in your mental library, Doctor?"

The Doctor crossed back and opened another door. He watched for a moment, then motioned Rose over to stand beside him. "Something like that, I suppose."

"Really?"

He looked at her for a moment. No smile, this time. "Really."

"Huh. The things you learn in libraries." Rose slid down the wall, staring into the room. Her eyes filled with tears.

The Doctor sat beside her, his eyes shifting back and forth between Rose and the open door. "What? It's just fiction. Nothing to be upset about, really."

"I know, but I can't help it. We both know what happens next, and we won't ever get to…"

"Shh. It'll be okay. You'll be okay. And I'll be…changed, but still me. Sort of." They both fell silent. Suddenly Rose sniffed, and stood up.

"I think I've had enough of this. Too hard to think about what we've…"

"Given up?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Time to see what story we're from, then."

"Sure. Lead on, Doctor."

They walked back through the library, making different choices along the way. They made a quick stop to see what Michael and Nikita got up to, but all that unrequited passion was depressing. Finally, Rose swung open the door marked Doctor and Rose Completed and stepped inside. "Wow. Looks different from the outside, doesn't it? Why aren't we moving?"

"Don't know. Take a look at the text and see."

Rose scanned the writing on a nearby wall. "Well, she's certainly left room for a sequel. Or ten."

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I should say so. Wonder what she's got in mind?"

"We could go find out. I mean, if she's got something else started, we could."

"That's true. Well, can't hurt to be prepared."

There wasn't another door behind the one labeled Doctor and Rose WIP. Just a brick wall. Rose pushed on it, but nothing happened.

"You won't be able to move it. It's writer's block."

"So we can't do anything?"

"Nope. Have to wait it out."

Rose gave him an appraising look. "That's out of character, you know."

"Maybe. But it's true. Anyway, it won't last long. Look."

Rose watched as the wall turned into a mirror. She shivered. "Isn't that a little odd? I mean, everywhere else has been a room, or a corridor."

"Maybe it's because it isn't finished. Or maybe…damn it. I knew there was something odd about this."

"What?"

"Think about it. What else about us is different?"

"I don't know. No, wait. I do. We're walking around. Back in that first room, we could see everyone. And something else, something." Rose couldn't quite figure out the last bit. As usual.

"We're talking about the author. We shouldn't be able to do that. Not unless we're..." He broke off, staring at the mirror.

"Doctor? What are we?"

"Metafic. Satire, probably. Some sort of weird version of a Mary Sue, I bet. Damn it. I hate those things. But it does explain why we've only seen the fanfic parts of this place. I was wondering where the nonfiction was."

Rose looked on the bright side. "Well, at least I'm not getting blown up or something. And now that we've figured it out, she's bound to stop writing soon."

"Yeah, but are we going to get some sort of denouement?"

The door slammed shut. Rose and the Doctor looked at each other. "Guess not."


End file.
